


No Boyfriend, No Problems

by coveredincrumb (thegiftoftime), thegiftoftime



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A.Z. Fell & Co., Alcohol, Aziraphale is a bit of a player, Aziraphale reads gossipy magazines, Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bad at tagging, Clubbing, Drinking, Emotional Constipation, First Love, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Gay Bar, Good Friend Anathema, Good dancing, I'm not gonna rush the plot, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, London, M/M, Mesh!!!, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Occult, Sassy Aziraphale (Good Omens), Slow Burn, Soho, Song Lyrics, Swearing, They/Them Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), Wandering Hands, Wing Woman Anathema, alternative universe, bad dancing, bowties, soft, they aren't angels, will add more tags as needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22320616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegiftoftime/pseuds/coveredincrumb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegiftoftime/pseuds/thegiftoftime
Summary: Aziraphale is comfortable in his own skin. He is okay with sitting in his 'Closed' shop reading away during the day. And he is okay with hitting a club with his good friend Anathema once in a while and trying out what Soho has to offer him. However, at the end of the day, he knows he can always go back to his shop and wash off the glitter and sweat from the night before. Not having a boyfriend meant none of the problems along with it. He is content with the life he has even if his friends keep trying to get him to try something else. Aziraphale thought he was happy until one night leads to an upset in that line of thought.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Anathema Device, Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 86





	1. 'Closed' for Business

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome one and all to my first published fic here on Ao3! I hadn't read the book before I had seen the show, but I fell in love with the characters and the plot show and book. I've read my fair share of fanfiction and seen my fair share of art before I have now decided to contribute to this awesome community officially! Comments and feedback are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoy my take on the characters and their relationships.

Love had always been something a tad silly to Aziraphale. Relationships were never anything like what he had read about in his books (especially the ones with a shirtless man and a cowboy hat that had some preposterous title like, “Dirt, Dust, and Love” or “Rodeo and Juliet”). Or perhaps even in those gossipy magazines that you found in the checkout lane when getting groceries. The ones with the newest drama on the Queen herself and her supposed cancer or the how-to “Spice Up Your Love Life With These HOT Tips” articles probably written by some divorcé with way too much time on her hands, literally. Even with that insight, Aziraphale and most of the middle-aged women in Soho seemed to fall for their whims as they patiently waited to purchase their things. He knew of course that most of it was rubbish, but life and love seemed to be so wild and tempestuous outside of his small London flat. Who wouldn’t want to gasp and raise their brows at someone else’s gossip and peril? He of course would just shrug after his moral compass wavered in favor of his new piece of literature being dropped unceremoniously onto the dusty black conveyor belt telling himself it was for the new recipes that had a much too long foreword and ingredients that no one could possibly afford. No one’s perfect. 

He wasn’t a stranger to affection. He had had a few rendezvous here and there. He wasn’t a prude like his ‘friend’ Gabriel who Aziraphale swore just had a knack for taking the fun out of things. 

“I just don’t understand why you would waste your time with a potentially fantastic business opportunity that you consistently have closed to potential buyers because you never truly want to sell anything. It is such a waste. Shame.”

“The minute I sell something, I regret it and want it right back in my hands. I’ll give my books the time and attention they need.”

Aziraphale quipped as he placed a few more books he had purchased at a local flea market in their new homes. He had purchased some great Frost and Wilde for a hell of a deal, if he may say so. The sellers had no idea what kind of mistake they had made. It wasn’t Aziraphale’s fault. Gabriel just scoffed shaking his head. Aziraphale sighed and set his forehead against a shelf saying a quiet, 

“God help me”

He turned from his shelf and crossed his arms looking at Gabriel with an exasperated look. 

“You wouldn’t understand because you don’t know how to give anything attention outside of work. You’re constantly traveling and running around like a chicken with its head cut off. You don’t allow yourself to actually enjoy something, for once. To stay in for a night to read or to just have one wild night and forget about it the next morning wouldn’t be so bad, would it?. Speaking of, how’s your love life?”

Gabriel worked in the stock market and was based out of New York City, but once in a while he would make it to London for work and would make the annual chastising trip to Aziraphale’s ‘shop’. One thing to always set each other off was talking about which soul or souls they were currently ‘seeing’ which for both of them was a bit lacking, or in their cases, always lacking. God forbid Gabriel actually wanted to have a civil conversation about Aziraphale and his preferences, and Aziraphale certainly didn’t want to hear about the many women who were falling head over heels for him -- which he doubted to be true -- but all is fair in love and war. It always ended up in a stalemate and the constant game they played waited for either one to reset the board for yet another stalemate.

Gabriel reddened and scoffed getting up re-buttoning his grey tailored suitjacket’s buttons. He was always dressed to the nines in the latest fashion. They were usually always grey suits with matching slacks adorned with beautiful tan Doc Martens. He was intimidating to say the least, but Aziraphale had learned not to put up with it, too much.

“Certainly better than yours, I’m sure.” 

Aziraphale just gave a small almost devilish smile and tilted his head. His blonde curls lightly brushed against his cream collar. He wasn’t afraid to go out and have a good time once in a while. 

“Are you sure about that?” 

Gabriel just gawked at him for another few moments before throwing his hands up in the air, rolling his eyes. Again, it seemed his face, and now neck, were a bit pink.

“As much as I’d love to stick around watching you put books on shelves to just take them off again, I really must get back to the office, Aziraphale. I have a deal to negotiate and God knows no one is capable in their jobs.”

Aziraphale nodded and walked him to the door, opening it up, his hand safe on the knob. The two stared at each other for a few moments and then Gabriel cleared his throat setting his hand on the other closed door looking deep into Aziraphale’s blue eyes with his own stormy grey which edged on violet.

“Take care of yourself, Aziraphale.”

Gabriel turned the ‘Closed’ sign to ‘Open’ and then awkwardly, yet confidently at the same time, trotted down the few steps into the street and hailed a cab. 

Aziraphale watched the little cab jot off down the busy street and he sighed setting his head on the edge of the door. He moved his eyes to the sign that said ‘Open’ and for a moment he wondered whether or not he as a person really was ready to be ‘Open’ for business. 

He was quite comfortable with his ‘shop’ being ‘Closed’. He had his books to himself and when he wanted to leave the shop, he could go and have a spot of fun just to return back to his shop still being ‘Closed’ and nothing amiss. His shop was his safe space and London could be wild. London was boisterous and chaotic. When he wanted to venture and experience it, he could, but he didn’t want to bring that back to his shop. He lived his life at his leisure. That is what made him happy even if Gabriel was so determined to get him to open his shop and let life in -- metaphorically and not.

He heard the honking of another cab and broke out of his mind’s apparent wish to be discombobulated and to be having some sort of crisis. He looked at the sign for only a moment more before the bookkeeper flipped it to ‘Closed’ and went back into his shop to start a pot of tea with his new favorite blend and open up that Wilde book he had gotten a great deal on. 

He pushed the words of Gabriel from him and the thoughts of the confusion he faced after such conversations with his tireless friend.

Such was life for Gabriel, but Aziraphale was determined to enjoy his life at his pace.


	2. If You Need Her, She'll Know.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is determined to enjoy his life at his pace and by doing the things he likes to do by himself. But what about the things you do with others? Reflecting on friendships brings up the memory of how he met one of the better friends in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with Chapter 2! I couldn't stop myself from posting another one so soon. An introduction to our friendly neighborhood occultist. I hope you will enjoy this chapter as we continue along in the story. Comments and constructive feedback always appreciated by your friendly neighborhood writer.

To Aziraphale, reading a book, having a spot of tea, going to the Ritz, and having a bit of fun with the gavot was how he could enjoy his life. In all of these matters, except perhaps the gavot, could one do by themselves. Some may say that a person who prefers to do things alone should have a reality check and try to ‘get out there’ and ‘experience the real world’ for what it was -- filled with many people. However, Aziraphale didn’t feel as if these things were a bad thing, rather it showed how comfortable he was with himself and being alone. He could get lost in his shop’s, or rather a personal labyrinth of a library’s shelves of books and go to any world he wished to go to. He could read  _ The Da Vinci Code _ by Dan Brown and go on a scavenger hunt for the Holy Grail with Professor Robert Langdon or perhaps read a dose of Homer and learn about Greek mythology and feel the tragedy and triumph of the protagonists. The world was his oyster and his alone. Reading books could only be done by yourself. You couldn’t really share one book without it being annoying and having to wait to turn the page or feel the stress of having to speed up to match someone else’s pace. In any case, it was a great way to spend some quality time with yourself. 

Again, Aziraphale wasn’t a prude and he certainly wasn’t a hermit either. He liked to have his moments of fun in the sun and enjoy the wild world outside of A.Z. Fell and Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books. But, sometimes it helps to have a little kick in the tush to get you out there and someone to spend your time with. Aziraphale wasn’t an unfriendly person by any means, but he didn’t have a plethora of friends either-- Good friends that is. He was friends with the ducks in the ponds in a park - and said hello to everyone he saw Berkeley Square - and he was friends with his baker who made him the most exquisite baguettes he had ever eaten outside of France. He was friends with his mailman and even the paperboy who always seemed to miss his door when he went along with his paper route. However, he couldn’t exactly count them as  _ real _ friends. Real friends who pushed him to do better or went out of their way to check up on him or - Well, you get the idea. The world is filled with  _ friendly _ people, but not everyone is truly your friend. Aziraphale knew this quite well and was a bit selective with his friends. Luckily, he had a few people he could count on. One was Anathema Device. 

She was a sparky young woman who challenged him in just the right way. They had both been trying to get a cuppa tea in a little caf é one busy rainy London morning when trying to escape the cascade of water. There weren’t many spots to lounge left in the cozy little shop and no one wanted to run out into the rain and get drenched, least of all Aziraphale. He had just gotten his tartan suit dry cleaned. After running into the café and ordering himself a nice English Breakfast, he looked around the bustling shop finding only a few seats left. In the back was a small corner booth occupied by a brown-haired woman in her mid-twenties, perhaps. She was wearing a royal purple knitted jumper with light washed jeans, golden star earrings adorning her face. There was something a bit bewitching about her that drew him to actually ask to sit down. It didn’t hurt to ask, but he didn’t even have a chance to before she just gestured to the spot across from her. He muttered a quick thanks and took a seat with his tea held cozily in the palms of his hands. He pulled out his own book he had been reading through and tried to keep his eyes to his own book. 

While they individually were quite comfortable not speaking to a stranger and just enjoying their warm beverages, both were a bit curious of each other-- especially Aziraphale his counterpart’s quite intriguing tome. She seemed deep in thought as she read and took notes in a separate moleskin journal. He couldn’t see the title, but the book looked very  _ antique. _ A deep burgundy cover with yellowing pages still in fantastic condition. Whoever had had the book, really had taken care of it which he deeply appreciated. It was a very lovely publication whatever it was. He really couldn’t help himself when clearing his throat and grabbing the young woman’s attention. And it seemed that she didn’t seem too put off by his curiosity when he inquired as to what the history was; almost as if she was expecting him to ask.

They had sparked up a nice conversation about it and when the rain stopped, they both glanced outside realizing it was make-or-break time to get back to their true destinations. He was sad to stop their chat but she handed him a small maroon business card reading in gold lettering:

“Anathema Device.

Professional Decedent. 

Witch.

Supernatural Consultant.

If you need me, I’ll know.” 

That was quite curious. He flipped it to the back and saw matching gold numbers listing a phone number. 

Fair enough.

They exchanged numbers and their friendship continued from there. She had become a good friend quickly. She was a person who didn’t intrude too much in his general affairs but still made an effort to invite him to different events they could both enjoy. As of late, there had been lots of invitations to some drinking establishments (but that didn’t quite explain it). They were more like gathering-places-of-all-kinds-of-people-for-the-purpose-of-a-drink-dance-and-possibly-a-snog. That made more sense, but maybe it was a bit wordy. In any case, they would drink, dance, and at the end of the night potentially go off to do some… social activities. 

After such a day with Gabriel and his own momentary crisis of reflection, he received a message from his dear friend Anathema. It was almost as if she knew just when he needed to get out and have a bit of fun. He trusted her judgment. She was rarely wrong. 

_ “The Village, tonight? They have half-off deals at 20:00. Xx” _

He barely had time to respond with an answer when his phone *dinged* again. 

_ “I have a little something for you… to entice you out, as well. Just went to another estate sale ; )”  _

Those estate sales were dangerous with all the interesting bits ‘n bobs. There was a very high likelihood that it was some type of text that he didn’t currently have in his library or perhaps something to do with the occult. As he got to know Anathema better, Azirphale learned what her business card really meant. She was very invested in occult practices. Because of this, they both had such wondrous and riveting conversations together about religion and belief. He was a Christian himself but had no problem being captivated and intrigued by other religions and practices such as Anathema’s own. Religions seemed to be more alike than different, more often than not. It was always interesting to learn something about your own religion by talking about someone else’s. Sometimes she engrossed him in a tarot card reading or perhaps told him about the moon cycles of that month and how it would affect his aura. Some would call this silly, but he greatly appreciated her art and would never pick fun at it. She was very devoted and disciplined, unlike many Christians who looked down their noses while only attending mass on Christmas and Easter.

So, her little temptation to him could be anything, really. 

He stared at his small keyboard on his grey Nokia 6350 flip phone he had. It made and received calls, and of course, it sent messages; all he could ever need a phone for. Texting was a bit difficult at times, but after making friends with Anathema, he got used to it.

“How could I resist such a tempting offer like that? It has been a while since I’ve gone out. I could use a nice look around.”   
  
He hit send, and almost immediately, a message was shot back. 

_ “Then it is arranged. I’ll give you a ring when I’m coming ‘round. Xx.” _

Then it was arranged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea that Anathema has a business card to save time. Do you think the titles do her justice? How do you imagine Anathema and Aziraphale's friendship starting? Comments and constructive feedback always appreciated!
> 
> Tumblr: coveredincrumb


	3. The Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we go through Aziraphale's routine of getting ready for a night out on the town with our friendly neighborhood occultist. What exactly entails a night out in Soho for our bookkeeper?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are with Chapter 3! It is time for a night out and all the fun that getting ready along with it. Just gonna remind that this is a slow burn, but we'll see Crowley- or, er, our mystery suitor somewhat soon. Patience, dearies! Comments and constructive feedback always loved and appreciated. : )

Everything was arranged for the night when it came to getting that kick in the tush to go out, but Aziraphale certainly wasn’t ready. After a good few years of going out and getting his bearings for the ‘going-out’ scene, he found his own ways of getting prepped and getting in the mindset to let loose. Everyone had their system. Some drank as many cheap beers as they could before. Others played their favorite musical playlists, dancing along as they found the perfect outfit. Each place had a different vibe to prepare for. The Village, the club in Soho that they were going to this time, was a gay club. You could find any manner of people there. What Aziraphale loved about going to the gay clubs in London was that you could dress up however you want, be whoever you want, and not have the stress of a more typical bar where everyone was practically the same and maybe even a bit afraid of being themselves. In a queer-friendly bar, there were lads, ladies, and beyond dressing in leather, feathers, nothing-

Aziraphale had a bit of a different approach when going out.

He dressed a bit more casual (because good God, there were some questionable things- liquids found in these types of establishments). He didn’t exactly commend it, but such was nightlife in Soho and where he and Anathema would be going. If you were to go out, you should be ready for anything. 

There wasn’t any way he was going to go in his nice suit. 

Instead of his nicer cream dress trousers, he put on some crimson chino trousers that he was willing to get a bit dirty and part with if need be. He had to admit they hugged his curves quite nicely, his thighs a nice thickness for them- or so he had been told. For a top, he replaced his go-to waistcoat and tartan collar with bowtie duo he wore almost on the daily with a simple cream button-up and a more lively bowtie. 

He had accumulated some quite amusing bowties over the years and Anathema didn’t help him trim down his collection, by any means. He had ones with cute little bowtied dachshunds. He had rainbow ones that he had gotten for Pride one year. He even had a silver sequined one gifted from Anathema for a Cabaret themed night (that was a night that had been burned into his memory, while at the same time he didn’t remember anything. Possibly for the best.) Sometimes at the end of his night, his bowtie would somehow go missing and he wondered just how many of them were on some handsy lad’s vanity. It brought a small chuckle out at the thought.

For this particular night, there wasn’t anything too special happening at the club. It was a Thursday night, and Anathema would have told him if there was any theme he should dress for. He always made an effort to have some sort of article of clothing for the theme. It was such fun to be a part of the comradery. People were quite creative with what they came to play in. On one particular space-themed evening, there was a young man with a space helmet, sparkly silver booty shorts, and a water pistol filled with vodka giving everyone free shots at the door. It was quite otherworldly.

His outfit thus far wasn’t too striking to the eyes and he hadn’t gone to this particular establishment in over a month. He wanted to show up with a least a little pizazz. After unceremoniously dumping his shoebox filled with bow ties onto his cream tartan comforter, his eye caught a little diddy he hadn’t adorned in some time. He picked it and stroked its velvet soft textile with his thumbs. He smiled causing the line at the corners of his blue eyes to crease. He decided on a deep oxblood red bow tie and tied it around the collar of his cream-colored button-up. He turned to the tall mirror he had hanging next to his worn cherry wardrobe and gave a soft smile seeing it come together. He looked sharp. Beautiful cream with a striking bit of flaming crimson. With his blue eyes, he almost looked a bit patriotic to the British crown. 

He had done well with these choices. Although he always fell into the comfort of his well-loved and repaired waistcoat and suits, he had an eye for a bit of fashion even if shopgoers would think otherwise. It would make him stand out at the bar and on the dance floor.

Thereafter, came his hair and face. He liked his hair the way it was, or perhaps it was that he hadn’t really known what else to do with the curly blond locks. He couldn’t straighten them or curl them any more than their current state. Instead, he grabbed a little pomade and ran his fingers, much like some 50’s greaser like James Dean he imagined, through his damp freshly washed hair. He fluffed it out a few times and gave a crooked grin as a curly strand of hair fell onto his forehead. He gave the mirror some thumbs up and put on a goofy look as he had seen in some 50s period movie he couldn’t remember. 

“Aziraphale. That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” 

Gosh, he was such a goof, but he liked that about himself.

He shook his head at the reference and pushed the hair back onto his head to a more suitable look. His attention went to another small box on his vanity. Inside was a small brush for his wiley eyebrows to make sure they were manageable and not so unruly. He read in one of those gossipy magazines that it was very important to make sure your face was framed right and doing your eyebrows could help your eyes stand out. Even if he couldn’t really tell the difference, it didn’t hurt to make the effort.

To give him a little more of an edge in such a boisterous establishment where he would be surrounded by glitter, feathers, body oil, and confetti, he reached for a small glass vial with some body-safe biodegradable iridescent glitter. It was yet another gift from Anathema. He put some on his soft cheekbones and a little on his brow bone like his friend had shown him how to do. It really did frame his face. It glinted in the light of his bedroom just right and the sun setting made him look glowy. Maybe that article had some validity to it. 

He looked fun and also felt like himself.

He quickly filed his nicely manicured nails till he felt they were just right; soft and curved. He then picked up a little brown bottle and spritzed a bit of cologne on his neck and dabbed some on the inside of his wrists for a final touch. It was supposed to be giving off notes of driftwood and citrus. Some ‘masculine’ scent, apparently. It was a gift from Gabriel for his birthday one year. It smelled nice enough so he used it from time to time. Waste not, want not.

After one last glance in the mirror, Aziraphale closed his bedroom door and felt his phone vibrate. That would be Anathema. No matter when he was ready, early or late, she was always there exactly when he needed her to pick him up. It was a gift, she said. Going down the stairs, Anathema was already opening the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. Here we go. He's looking fine and fancy-free. If you could wear any bowtie on a night out, which kind would you have? 
> 
> Also, side note, the mention of a booty shorted alien shooting shots of vodka out of a water pistol was a true experience of mine one fateful night... it was, er, otherworldy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anathema finally makes it to the bookshop just on time. Fluff, friendship, good banter, and that promised gift she hinted at in her messages before come to fruition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Here we are with another chapter. Just a little friendship and conversation between our friendly neighborhood occultist and Aziraphale. Before the night can really begin, one must have a drink or two and some good conversation--- maybe even a little gift. I hope you will enjoy this chapter. I love to write wholesome fluff. 
> 
> Any comments and constructive feedback are always welcome. Enjoy : )

“ _ Aziraphale?” _

He trotted down the last few stairs from his apartment above the shop and poked his head out.

“Coming, dear! I won’t be a tick.”

When he went out into the lobby of the bookshop, they both paused what they were doing, smiled at each other, and then began to giggle. Anathema was wearing a gorgeous slim-cut  _ red _ dress. It was almost the exact shade of Aziraphale’s bowtie.

“You look smashing, Ana. I will be the luckiest man there, tonight.”

She went up to him and pulled him in for a snug hug, her long nails lightly scratching his back before pulling away. Her eyes were twinkling with mischief. 

“Oh, really? Going to a gay bar doesn’t say much for me, now does it?” 

Aziraphale just shook his head, a big goofy grin still on his face.

“I stand by my word, dear. We will look quite the pair walking in there this evening.”

He went to a shelf hidden behind a few bookshelves and took out a pinot grigio from his last vacation to Italy and two wine glasses for them to share a drink. Sometimes during a long,  _ hard day _ of not selling a single book, one needed a little glass of something. 

Anathema beamed at her friend and went to the cream worn and well-used armchair in the back of the shop. With a bit of flair, she took a dramatic seat adjusting her dress around her knees. Aziraphale handed her a glass and then popped the cork letting it air for a few minutes. He then poured them both a glass and then took a seat on a stool opposite of his friend. With a well-practiced hand, he raised his glass.

“To tonight and the adventure we have. May we remember the good times for as long as we can.” 

Aziraphale raised his glass and Anathema mirrored him.

“And may we be too drunk to remember the bad times, my mousy bookkeeping friend” 

Anathema looked much too impressed as she clinked her chalice and took a long sip. 

Aziraphale just rolled his eyes and took a much more measured sip from his glass. He wanted to enjoy it. After reveling in the quiet noises in the creaky old shop and letting themselves fall into its warm ambiance, Aziraphale set down his glass on the little table between them and put his folded hands into his lap. 

“I hate to sound acquisitive, my dear…”

Aziraphale lightly scratched the back of his hand with his manicured finger.

“-but you did tempt me out of my humble abode with a little something if I remember correctly.” 

Anathema gave a fake gasp of hurt and covered her mouth. Aziraphale tried to cover his amusement with the back of his hand.

“And here I thought you wanted to go out with me tonight because you were so excited to be in my presence once again!” 

Aziraphale beamed back at her and sat back a bit farther on his stool raising a hand dramatically. He wanted to appear as if he were some fictitious suitor that had offended his one true love that he was determined to win over. 

“Oh, my dear! It goes without saying. I could never say no to you, my good friend.” 

She raised her brow skeptically, her hands posed efficaciously in her lap before coming to the conclusion that she would forgive him. She tilted her head to the side and a piece of chocolate brown hair fell from its place behind her ear.   
  


“I suppose I did say I had a little something for you. It wouldn’t be playing fair if I didn’t at least show you it before we go out.” 

She waited only a moment longer for dramatic effect and then reached into her black velvet pull string bag for something hidden safely inside. Aziraphale watched her intently as she finally paused her hand. When she retrieved her hand from the purse, Aziraphale leaned forward and glimpsed upon a gold pocket watch. Upon closer inspection, he saw that it had the thin metal banding work of an apple tree on the front; thin snaking metal details all around the edges of the circular piece. 

  
  


_____

  
  


He didn’t deserve friends like this. He dropped his theatrical whims and cradled the watch in his hands. It was quite lovely. It was beyond that. Perhaps he was a bit took aback and speechless. Anathema sat back in her seat satisfied and watched Aziraphale take a closer look popping it open.

“The old man Winsor passed away on my street. His wife would call me for readings and such. When he passed, his wife decided to downsize everything and move to a smaller flat. During my last reading, Mrs. Winsor showed me a few of her late husband’s collectibles and bobbles. She told me to pick something out if I wanted it. 

“I thought you said estate sale, not some poor fellow’s things.”

Aziraphale quipped not looking up from the timepiece quite enraptured in its small details, but quickly added,

“-but I am very thankful, nonetheless, dear…” 

He tapered off looking up at Anathema with gracious eyes. He spent just another moment looking at the timeless piece of artwork and then forced himself to set it down, if only for a moment. He stood up off of his stool and went to Anathema for a small embrace. 

“You know just what to gift others, don’t you? Whether that be by a listening ear, a small push to go out, or a…  _ truly beautiful _ gift as this. I really don’t know what to say.”    
  
Anathema lightly patted his back and gave a small press of lips to his temple. 

“You don’t have to say anything, Azira… I simply saw it and thought it would be given a nice home here with you. It needed to be here, I think. It is hard to explain. There was something about it when I laid my eyes upon it. The light reflected in just the right way.” 

She gave him one last squeeze and then sat back in her plush chair taking her wine glass placing it to her lips. Aziraphale moved back to his stool picking up the metalwork once more and nodded. He trusted her judgment. He would take very good care of it. It seemed to be in good condition already and the late Mr. Winsor must have given it the same amount of attention. He could almost feel the love radiating from it. 

His thoughts were interrupted by a glass being set back on the table. 

“Now enough ooh-ing and aw-ing. We have plans! Don’t think you can get out of what is to come tonight, whatever that may be.” 

She said a bit mystically, an eyebrow cocked.

Aziraphale just gave a small playful roll of his eyes, them twinkling with fondness towards his friend. 

“Yes, yes, you are quite right. Let me just place this upstairs safe on my vanity, then we can go. It is nearing 20:00, anyway. The party has probably already started.”    
  
“Not without us, it hasn’t. We haven’t walked through the door yet.” 

_____________

Aziraphale went up the creaky stairs with the watch carefully cradled in his hands. He couldn’t stop looking at it. The beautiful snaking metalwork seemed to almost slither around the apple tree in the light. He placed it on the vanity and after one last glance, he pulled himself away from it and down the stairs to his friend. It was bewitching.

Anathema turned his way after setting the now carefully washed wine glasses in the cupboard above the small sink that was seated in the corner of the shop.    
  


“Ready?” 

Aziraphale gave another fond glance at his friend and reached out his hand for her to take.

“I think you know the answer to that.”


	5. Happy Little Accidents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is young as the street lamps flicker on. Who knows how the night will go? Aziraphale had that question on his mind, as well. His blood was stirring, excited for what would come because a few things were sure: another wine or two or three (-within his limits. He was a responsible drinker!) and some fun dancing no matter the music type with his best friend. 
> 
> That's how the nights typically went.
> 
> Unless...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey! Anotha' one. Do we finally get to see who we've all been waiting so patiently for? Enjoy ~

It was a surprisingly quick drive down the busy London streets of Soho to the Village. Well, perhaps it wasn’t too surprising considering that their cabbie apparently had some affinity to keep their foot glued to the floor. Aziraphale was very thankful that he and Anathema had only had a glass of wine before they had gotten into the cab. He appreciated the efficiency, but the driver certainly wasn’t looking right or left when zipping through light after light. And they weren’t looking, or maybe they were just ignoring their rearview mirror where both passengers where clinging to each other for dear life and the small useless handles above the doors. He certainly hoped that on their way home tonight, this wouldn’t be their driver saving they wanted there to be an accident in the back after a night of drinking and dancing.

Once they pulled up to the already busy club, Aziraphale and Anathema gave a tip to the driver, but quickly jumped onto the sidewalk as the cab screeched off the very temporary parking spot and back into the streets looking for its next victim to traumatize. 

The pair of friends gave each other a look after looking for skidmarks and then began to chuckle now that they knew their lives weren’t in peril any longer. 

_____

The music was pounding from outside of the venues, the bass shaking everyone’s heads. It was some sort of disco or be-bop music what have you. It wasn’t particularly to Aziraphale’s tasting, but he already began to feel the blood pumping in his veins from the upbeat melodies and bass lines. He wasn’t immune to the penetrating dancing beats and he wasn’t exactly there only for the music, after all. 

Once on the curb, the deep and piercing smell of soot and smoke was floating through the air, the setting sun catching it as it floated around like small clouds. There was sharp high-pitched laughing as Aziraphale and Anathema looked around at their surroundings. The small streets were beginning to fill up even though it was only a little after 20:00. The clubs and the streets usually didn’t start getting wild until after 22:00 he had found. Beforehand, people were pregaming at bars or their small apartments with shots of vodka and whatever they had in their fridges at the time to chase the sharp taste. As of now, the streets of Soho were beginning to get darker with the escaping light and the energy levels were continuously getting greater and greater as more dives starting boasting cheap prices to entice customers to get at least a tad buzzed before getting into their more high-end pubs or clubs of choice later that night where the drinks would be incredibly expensive.

Aziraphale could feel his heart drumming. The mix of musky smoke from cigarettes and other things that were able to be smoked was thick and groups were slowly crowding onto the sidewalks to ‘get some fresh air’ with a partner of choice before the real fun began. 

There was so much eye candy on a Friday night like this. Now, Aziraphale was very against people staring and ogling like some animal, but when you went out, it was very easy to get distracted. Everyone was clinking glasses and cheering on their friends as they drank a little bit too fast. Clothes ranged from casual to full on drag. Gorgeous eye makeup and glittering dresses reached out to your eyes as the street lights began to flicker on and reflect in the sequins. Men in smart ties and dress shirts with a button or two or three or four popped open revealing a spattering of hair walked down the sidewalk next to Aziraphale and Anathema as they pushed through the sidewalk towards their club of choice. He had missed this. It was always such fun to feel the vibrations of the people around him- young and old. You couldn’t pretend there wasn’t an incredible atmosphere that you just couldn’t find anywhere else than the queer district. It was a break from the ‘normal’ in society -whatever that meant. It was a place to let your hair down and unbutton your too-tight collar. It was a place to be  _ you _ when you couldn’t be that way during the stress of everyday life. It was a place to be  _ free and smile without worry of what others would think of you _ . In Aziraphale’s experience, these parts of town - with clubs and drinking or not - were some of the most accepting and open-armed places you could go, no matter your orientation, gender, sex, religion, etc. If you came to be accepting and friendly, anyone was welcome. 

It was a breath of fresh air- well, not quite but you get the idea. 

His blood was stirring, excited for what would come that night because a few things were sure: another wine or two or three (-within his limits. He was a responsible drinker!) and some fun dancing no matter the music type with his best friend. 

What he wasn’t sure about was if his eyes would fall upon anyone special or if someone would cast their eyes upon him. It was exhilarating! Who knew what could come? 

  
  


Finally, after walking and dodging groups of people crowded outside bars on the sidewalk for about 10 minutes, the pair made their way to the queue outside of the club. Like Anathema has said, there was free entrance to the Village at 20:00 when things were a bit slower. But Aziraphale liked to be there earlier anyway so he could get adjusted to the scene and secure a good  _ clean _ spot for when Anathema or he would need some time to rest and just people watch. 

The line wasn’t too long and it only took around 5 or so minutes to get to the bouncer. A man in his mid to late 30s and very fit. He had a mop of brown hair and a flashlight to check bags and I.D.s when the sun didn’t help anymore. He was dressed in a black polo and was checking everyone’s I.D.s at the gate before the entrance. Once the pair got to the front, the bouncer flashed a serious face at the done-up friends as he checked their I.D.s and Aziraphale smiled right back innocently. 

“Good evening. How has your night been going, dear?” 

The bouncer seemed a bit surprised that someone was actually asking him how his night was going. He raised his brow and couldn’t help a small blush at how the blond was giving him such a genuine smile. He cleared his throat and handed back the I.D.s after seeing they were legal to enter and drink. Aziraphale Fell. Interesting name. He thought he almost recognized it.

“Er- Just fine. The night hasn’t been too busy yet and people aren’t showing up too pissed, but soon enough they will be. Makes things more interesting, at the least.” 

He tapered off and felt himself faltering at being called ‘ _ dear’ _ .

“Oh, I am sure it is, dear. You have a very important job out here. It doesn’t go unnoticed.” 

The bouncer gave a small weak chuckle and rocked on the heels of his black military booted feet. Aziraphale flashed a smirk and reached out for their cards after the bouncer awkwardly held it with two wristbands out forgetting that he needed to let them go. He cleared his throat and tried to steel his face in an ‘intimidating’ fashion.

“Have a good night, you two.” 

“You as well. Keep up the good work, dear.”

When they got through the door and moved to get past the coat check, Anathema raised her brows at Aziraphale.

“Really? The bouncer, Aziraphale? You are beyond belief,  _ dear. _ ”

She scoffed and took out a small pocket mirror to fix her black lipstick on her lips.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea what you mean by that, Ana. I was just asking the nice man how his night was going. His job should get a little recognition, too.”

He took the pocket mirror from her when she was done and made sure his hair wasn’t too unruly and handed it back with a very innocent smile.

She just shook her head in disbelief.    
  


“ _ You-” _

She stuck a black-nailed finger in the middle of his chest.

“-are  _ unbelievable _ .” 

Aziraphale’s innocuous smile turned into a smirk and he took her hand kissing the top of it. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anything else. I just wanted to get a feel for giving a very handsome gentleman a compliment again. I am a bit out of practice after all this time.”

She rolled her eyes and reached out fixing his cockeyed bowtie and placing it back properly in the middle of his collar. 

“And who’s fault is that, Azira?” 

Her voice softened as her hands rested on his tie and her eyes flickered up to his. Aziraphale’s smirk wavered for just a moment and then he gave a forced chuckle*.

“You are much too serious. Who invited me out for a wild night, again? Come now, all the good spots will be taken.”

That wasn’t true.

He stepped back and her hands fell from where they rested and she gave a small sigh as she watched him move towards the bartop. He was probably ordering them both another wine while the club still wasn’t too busy. She let out a slow exhale of breath from her nose. She wasn’t too worried. There was something in the air, she could almost taste it.

_____________

They spent another 40 or so minutes chatting it up and flickering their eyes once in a while over the room to see what individuals eventually crawled in from the sidewalks outside. More and more the energy in the room began to build up and the soft background of pop-techno that was being spewed out by surround sound speakers began to get louder as voices and conversations competed for dominance. 

The temperature began to rise and more and more clothes began to be peeled off while friends, lovers and complete strangers made their way to the fog covered dance floor to let loose. 

Both Aziraphale and Anathema began to feel the effects of the wine they had been nursing over the last half hour and Anathema took his hand tugging him away from their resting spot.

“Come on, Azira. Let’s dance.” 

He cocked his head to the side and squeezed it back giving a dramatic wave of his hand.

“Your wish is my command.” 

If only he knew what was to come.

________________________

Aziraphale wasn’t a  _ bad _ dancer. He did the gavot from time to time, but in these types of gentlemen’s clubs, you couldn’t exactly request a song for a gavot form the D.J. On this type of dance floor, as long as you did your best and didn’t stand there like a board, you really couldn’t do it wrong. Anything was better than awkwardly rocking back and forth on your feet and your hands stuck deep in your pockets. You just had to  _ feel _ the music and beat even if you didn’t exactly care for the genre. That wasn’t the point of dancing at these places. The point was to just go with the flow and forget about being a ‘bad’ dancer. You were there to have fun, at least Anathema and him were, and they always succeeded in that. 

The floor was getting more and more busy as the clock struck 22:30 and after a good twenty minutes of dancing with Anathema and inevitably grinding a bit on the other dancers, Aziraphale wanted a break to use the restroom as early on as he could manage. This would be most advisable and he had learned this was the best time the hard way. One should always go while the restrooms were still somewhat clean. There he would check his appearance then get another drink at the bar while resting up for the next bout of dancing with Anathema. Taking your time and moderating your drinking always led to the best scenarios for enjoying oneself. 

When he entered the bathroom through the dark black swinging door, it felt like a different world with the moderate amount of alcohol running through his veins. The music was muffled could give Aziraphale some time to just breathe in the muted light of yellow. There were a couple of people giggling and kissing as they entered a stall. Really, this early? Love waits for no one, he supposed. Aziraphale just chuckled to himself as he washed his hands and ran his damp hands through his curly hair checking himself in the large mirror. He still looked great, if he did say so himself. The iridescent glitter was still in place and with a dab of a paper towel, the sweat was manageable. After another minute or so reveling in the muffled sound of the pounding music, he prepared himself with a few deep breaths to enter the crowded floor covered in close bodies to eventually move towards the bar to check in with Anathema. He pulled himself away from the mirror and as he reached for the door handle to go back into battle, it opened quickly lightly hitting Aziraphale on the chest causing him to step back. 

“Oh, dear boy, I do apologize-” 

He wasn’t prepared to see what he did. 

Where his eyes were rested on the door handle, he could see down to the individual’s black very point leather shoes. They looked something of an Italian style that he had seen before when walking through Venice the summer before. Over them were black skinny jeans to match going all the way up to a snake belt buckle. Aziraphale’s eyes eventually made it up to a collared shirt, but not just any collared shirt. This one was lace. A black paisley design ran itself across the very lithe body it so jealousy covered. The collar and cuffs were a black opaque velvet, but the rest was see-through mesh to what looked to be tattooed snakes slithering about on a torso. It looked- Well, it looked very flattering- hot. It looked hot. His eyes finally made it up to  _ yellow _ eyes looking down the bridge of a sharp nose. They looked as if they were peering into Aziraphale’s very soul. Dark eyeliner was smudged around the person’s eyes framed by starking red eyebrows making the dark rounded Valentino sunglasses stand out even more as they peered unwavering at Aziraphale. Although it seemed ridiculous to be wearing such shades inside an already dim club, they made questionable thoughts race through Aziraphale’s overstimulated brain. It made the character seem so much more mysterious and enrapturing. A tuft of red hair arched over onto the man’s forehead tickling the rim of the glasses as he looked down at the very flushed Aziraphale with a smirk seemingly knowing exactly what Aziraphale was thinking it would seem.

Fuck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.dhgate.com/product/men-s-mesh-see-through-fishnet-shirt-2019/507999542.html#seo=WAP
> 
> Inspiration for Crowley's Mesh Top


	6. The Right Place at the Right Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale didn’t know how to explain it… It was just a simple bump in the bathroom, but there was something that just sent a jolt of electricity when he saw those gorgeous piercing eyes staring at him with amusement. After having his breath taken away when bumping into a heart-stopping person in the bathroom, what is Aziraphale to do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Wednesday! After a very stressful day in U.S. politics, I hope this little diddy will brighten your day.

It took a moment before Aziraphale realized the man, he’d assume for the moment, was speaking to him. He felt his cheeks redden as he blurted out a very dumb,

“Huh?”

Very eloquent. Who would have thought Aziraphale was a proud connoisseur of literature. 

The man’s mouth quipped up at the corner and Aziraphale didn’t miss a quick flick of the tongue licking the corner before -sadly- retreating back into its cave. 

“I asked if you were okay, Angel.” 

Oh, something stirred in him at that. He was concerned about him… and called him  _ Angel _ . 

“Oh, oh, yes, thank you for asking, dear. It seems we were both at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He closed his eyes as he gave a mental smack to his own forehead. Real original. He ruined it. His eyelashes shot up to his eyebrows when he heard the mystery man give a guileful chortle.

“Sad to hear you think it was the wrong place at the wrong time… I’d like to think it could have been by design.” 

That was…. _ poetic _ ?

The man so easily molded his spire of a body against the door. He slotted so perfectly with it and so effortlessly, long fingers gripping around the edge. His nails were  _ black  _ and digging into the chipping paint of the wood. Aziraphale let a small sigh of beguilement before the scene was interrupted by the flushing of a toilet and a groan of some poor soul who hadn’t been pacing themselves very well.

All of a sudden, the beguilement was snatched, Aziraphale’s senses came back to him, and he tore his eyes away from the man and looked anywhere but the Tumeric-yellow eyes. 

“I should get back to my friend if you don’t mind. She’s been waiting for me for a bit long. She’s probably wondering what has happened to me.” 

He tried to not sound so disappointed through a weak chuckle and nervous hand scratching the back of his neck but he needed to get out of there before he said anything more dim-witted. 

There was a pause that Aziraphale prayed would end and it did. He swore he heard a disgruntled grumble.

“Sure thing, Angel. Have fun.” 

Aziraphale didn’t allow himself to look up and quickly worked his way around the mystery man and through the crowds of people until he finally made it to the corner spot they had acquired earlier. Anathema was chatting with a young-looking person with black spikey hair, a graphic t-shirt with little flies, and a studded choker when he finally got there. Her eyebrows immediately shot up when she saw him and stepped away from the clubber she was speaking to, instead setting her hand on his forehead.

“Everything okay, Aziraphale? You seem a bit out of breath. Did something happen?”

He took a breath and shook his head with a chuckle,

“Not something,  _ someone _ .”

Oh, and how splendid they were! And he hadn’t gotten their name like a complete oaf! He had just stood there gawking like an idiot!

Her already existent frown deepened and her voice lowered pulling him to the aside a bit more,

“Did something happen, Azira? Do I need to go and get the bouncer?” 

Aziraphale looked at her confused for a moment before realizing how what he said probably sounded pretty bad in that context. He quickly chuckled and shook his head setting his hands on her shoulders giving them a light squeeze.

“Nothing bad happened, Ana. I promise. I just, I… there was…” 

She shook her head still confused by her friend’s scatterbrained disconnection. His eyes seemed to be scanning the floor and she tried to see what he was seeing. All she could see were the swarms of dancers and fog. She set her hands on his shoulder and turned him to be looking at her once again lightly shaking him back and forth.

“Aziraphale. What was there?”

He stared at her for a moment and then his eyes caught him exiting the bathroom and effortlessly snaking through bodies like some sort of graceful serpent.

“ _ Him. _ ”

_______________________________________________________

Aziraphale didn’t know how to explain it… It was just a simple bump in the bathroom, but there was something that just sent a jolt of electricity when he saw those gorgeous piercing eyes staring at him with amusement. He was sure that people must fawn over such a person. He was fit, good looking by societal standards, and didn’t word vomit when confronted with a blonde-haired bookkeeper.

Aziraphale didn’t place someone’s value on their looks, however. There was more to life than that. You should judge someone by the content of their character, as a famous man once said. Maybe it was the fading alcohol going through his veins. Maybe it was that he hadn’t been out in this scene in a while dancing the night away. Maybe it was that he hadn’t exactly been with someone longer than a night in a while -not that he expected anything to go past that, at that moment. It was just that he found himself not able to pull his blue eyes from the foggy floor covered with leather-clad and sequin-covered bodies grinding against each other in the chance that he might see those eyes and the swaggering movement of the snaking hips. He wondered what it would be like to dance with him.

He shook off the silly thoughts. He was getting way too caught up in such a thing. Of course, people danced together and such, he didn’t need to sensationalize it or make it any more than a simple dance. 

Anathema watched as her friend seemed to be at war with himself. She knew that look. She smiled and knew that Aziraphale was working himself up and that certainly wasn’t really a good thing by any means. 

This is what he’d do. He’d get a bit too fascinated and then psych himself out of actually enjoying himself because he took it too seriously. One thing would lead to another and he would gather thoughts about all the incredibly unlikely situations that could go along with spending time with such a person. It was good to be prepared, but he would inhibit himself from being happy and getting the release he really needed.

“ ‘Zira, let’s get a drink. Something a little stronger this time. Cran-Vod?” 

Her eyes twinkled as he turned to her and nodded.

“A very good idea I think, dear. I need a little top off.” 

Once Anathema had gotten their very overpriced cranberry vodkas from the bartender, they leaned back against the wood bar scanning the floor as he sucked on the paper straw from his tall glass. Aziraphale couldn’t help but wonder if Crowley was still thinking about the  _ Angel _ who had run into him in the bathroom. 

Was he wondering where the  _ Angel _ had gone when he left? Did he call everyone  _ Angel _ ? Was he mentally laughing at the blonde for acting so helpless? Had he come with someone else? Was he dancing out there? 

Anathema set her hand around his shoulders and pulled him into her side breaking him out of it. After taking a few sips and letting them settle in the beat and rhythm of the music, she leaned over to speak in a raised voice over the pounding music. 

“Finish your drink, then we’ll give him a show. He’ll be looking  _ for you _ by the time I’m done with you out there. Let loose a little, ‘Zira. You look great. Have fun.” 

He knew that was Anathema’s way of telling him to stop overthinking like he always did when it came to being ‘social’ in this way. He had nothing to worry about. He hadn’t even gotten to getting a drink with anyone, let alone planning on going on a date for something serious. No boyfriend, no problems. Just dancing and then going back to the bookshop, no commitment. No pressure.

“You’re right. Let’s give them  _ all _ something to look at.” 

He finished his drink and set it on the bar with renewed confidence taking her hand once again and leading her out on the floor as another upbeat dancing remix transitioned from the last. He tried his very best to not worry about the mystery man from before. He tried his very best to not think about how those yellow eyes could be staring at him at this very moment. And to his credit, he actually did forget about it. He just smiled and twirled Anathema around. The bodies around them molded around them, partners switching off and bodies sliding together as laughs and giggles slipped out from the fluidity of dancing. Anathema threw him into a man with snow-white hair and stubble in a leather harness and rubber pants after a few songs. Aziraphale playfully pressed back on him and the man reached a hand around his front lightly pulling him back into his chest but loose enough that Azirphale felt comfortable and able to break away whenever he wanted to. Aziraphale spun around smiling and threw the man a good-natured wink. They shared some drunk giggles and the man pinched his cheek playfully before, who Aziraphale would assume the man’s partner, pulled the man back to dance with him once again. 

Aziraphale turned back to Anathema. She was laughing herself and giving her red-covered hips a few bumps into Aziraphale as the words to “All the Single Ladies” were being played out over the speakers. They each held an air microphone to their mouths as they sang the lyrics. Aziraphale hadn’t been living under a rock, of course, he knew the words. As they screamed the words out and laughed grinding their sides against each other, Aziraphale caught another look of mischief in Anathema’s eyes. She was up to something… 

Like before, Anathema gave Aziraphale a few twirls and lightly danced forward, each step back to the downbeat until Aziraphale felt his back go into someone’s front. It was probably the same charming gentleman that he had been dancing with before. At least that was what he thought as an arm moved similarly around his front to his soft chest pulling him back against a front while keeping his hand loose on the front in case Aziraphale wanted to pull away. However… 

There were a few differences. 

  1. Anathema’s eyes were absolutely sparkling with amusement and mischief when she stared at him and who he was currently grinding against. She looked quite impressed with herself.
  2. The chest and front he was currently grinding himself into was a bit thinner feeling and without the buckles of a harness lightly digging pleasurably into his back from before. 
  3. Aziraphale’s hand that reached back to the man’s hips behind him to help guide the grind was feeling the fabric of denim, not rubber-clad legs. That’s normal enough, right?
  4. The hand at his front that was pulling him so deliciously snug into the chest behind him was slowly _snaking_ down to his hips where another hand was slithering and holding tight to Aziraphale’s belt helping to direct their bodies to the music.
  5. And last, but _not least in any sense of the word,_ a hot mouth breathed out a sensuous breath against his ear saying a low,



“ _ Is this the right time and place for you, Angel?”  _

  
  


Oh, fuck. 


	7. Do call my name.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was almost as if his brain short-circuited. There was that wretched dial-up babel playing over Lady Gaga’s Alejandro. He felt like the breath just shot out of his body, the hairs on his arms going on end, skin going to goose flesh. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol coursing through his veins, but he couldn’t actually believe this was happening. Was it really him? 
> 
> After some perfectly timed twirls, Anathema manages to get her friend right where she wants him, and where he wants to be, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy. I could only imagine being in Aziraphale's place right now. How his heart must be beating. I find myself thinking more and more often, WWAD. What would Aziraphale do? In this chapter, I think he handles it quite well. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. ; )

It was almost as if his brain short-circuited. There was that wretched dial-up babel playing over Lady Gaga’s  _ Alejandro _ . He felt like the breath just shot out of his body, the hairs on his arms going on end, skin going to goose flesh. Aziraphale wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol coursing through his veins, but he couldn’t actually believe this was happening. Was it really  _ him _ ? Anathema’s unwavering smirk and wink as she twirled around to the music didn’t tell him much, but also everything at the same time. She knew what she did. Of course, she did. She always ended up doing the exact right thing at the exact right time. 

  
  


He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes. How he responded was important. He hadn’t exactly come off like Oscar Wilde in the bathroom when speaking to the dripping  _ hot _ , sexy, beyond- _ belief _ individual before. 

Was this the right time and place for him? By God, it would be. It was. If there was such a thing as second chances, this was it. 

Before he could respond he felt the arms loosen only a hair of breath and the mouth lean in again.

“If you’re not comfortable-” 

God, the man was even polite. 

“Stay _ right _ where you are, Dear.” 

He heard himself blurt out as his hand tightened on the black leather belt behind him. He would not lose this chance. He would live to regret it if he did. 

  
  


He heard a small roused chuckle as the hands renewed their tightness on him while pulling him closer and continued their dance. Aziraphale held to the sharp hip with one hand and the other reached back with renewed confidence to the mesh-covered shoulder gripping it tightly. The man didn’t seem to mind as he let out a small groan in response.  _ Shit _ . Aziraphale hadn’t even turned his gaze to the man and could  _ feel _ exactly what he looked like through their dancing. The sureness of their hands on each other’s bodies as the song played incredibly loud over the speakers was intoxicating. 

_ Don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch. _

_ Just smoke my cigarette and hush _

_ Don’t call my name _

_ Don’t call my name, Roberto _

Aziraphale took in a deep inhale and let one out through his nose as he settled his ruffled blonde-white curls back onto the strong shoulder behind him. There was a grumble of contentment and perhaps even a whisper of a small chuckle at the action. The impossibly long fingers moved from the hips slowly higher and felt along the soft material of the dress shirt Aziraphale was wearing. The boney fingers fanned out and lightly curled sharper nails into the soft flesh of Aziraphale’s stomach. Aziraphale could have sworn he felt the man stop their dancing for only a moment reveling in the comfort of the comforting body in front of him, but that could have been the alcohol - or wishful thinking. 

A long, well-defined nose nuzzled slightly against the curls and Aziraphale smiled to himself. He had never felt so… calm even while surrounded by the pounding bass and the screaming of bad singing around him. He almost felt as if he and the man behind him were the only ones there simply dancing and feeling hopelessly  _ close _ . He had danced with others before. He had grinded and felt and grasped, but nothing like this. He didn’t want the soft daze to lift, but all good things come to an end. He had to face who was behind him properly. 

When he opened his eyes and looked out in front of him, Anathema wasn’t there. He wasn’t worried. He knew that she would never leave him especially if they had come to the club alone. She was most likely watching them from a distance, but at the same time, trying to give Aziraphale and his dance partner some distance to talk and, well, be a bit uncouth. Then again, he  _ was _ dancing with the man who had called him an  _ Angel _ . He could imagine her telling him later that he could thank her for her little service by buying her a coffee sometime. He would have a conversation with his best friend later. Aziraphale didn’t have much more time before Lady Gaga’s song that seemed to last for an eternity was coming to an end and more fog began to fill the floor.

The D.J. called out some incomprehensible nonsense before transitioning to Justin Timberlake's  _ Sexy Back _ . It wasn’t Aziraphale’s favorite but it got the job done. The hands hugging him back into the sturdy chest moved back down to the hips lightly rubbing up and down with a thumb. The nose in his curls was moving towards the top of his ear and that  _ mouth _ was speaking again. It took every brain cell in Aziraphale to focus on what he was saying to him. He moved his head to the side so his ear was a bit closer and moved his hand from the shoulder securely to the neck next to his and held it closely there so the mouth was closer to his ear. To hear better, of course.

_ “I didn’t give a proper introduction now did I, Angel? How indecent.” _

Aziraphale really couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped him int response to that voice that low, gravelly voice that spoke after so long. The man most certainly smirked against his neck at that response. As if any of this was  _ decent _ .

“ _ Let me be a proper gentleman, eh?”  _ _   
  
_

Before Aziraphale could even react, the hand pulled him to turn around and face his counterpart. What he saw did nothing but bewilder him, his mouth going dry.

The hands stayed on his hips but hooked their thumbs shallowly under Aziraphale’s waistline as they moved back and forth to Justin’s lyrics. Aziraphale could feel the pads of the thumbs lightly pressing and feeling the soft skin there.

_ I'm bringin' sexy back _

_ Them other boys don't know how to act  _

_ I think it's special, what's behind your back _

_ So turn around and I'll pick up the slack  _

How poetic they were, but also how true.

God those  _ eyes. _ They peered through the fog like Aziraphale was the only thing they could see. They didn’t look anywhere else and Aziraphale felt a strong wave of affection. He didn’t even care that that would normally scare him away. He wanted to be in the moment and those eyes didn’t want him anywhere else. When Aziraphale danced with others in the club, his partners often never stayed just with him. Their eyes wandered looking for another potential dance partner. He didn’t blame them as it was part of the fun of going out, but at times, Aziraphale  _ wanted _ to be the only one that they wanted to dance with. He wanted to be the only one to bewitch them. He wanted to be coveted. 

Aziraphale found himself moving his hands around the slim meshed waist and threading his fingers together pulling the man closer to him. Their eyes never pulled away from each other.

They smiled at each other carelessly rocking to the beat.    
  
_ “Right time and place then? _ ” 

Aziraphale cocked his head to the side and smiled softly, his curly hair falling over his forehead unruly.

“Better than before, that is for sure. You found me.”    
  
There was a light chuckle in response and a pair of hands moving to Aziraphale’s bowtie pulling it at its sides. It made Aziraphale’s chest swell with reverence.

“ _ Of course. I looked for you, Angel. Did you think I would go and run off so easily? I saw you dancing with your friend. ‘Looked like you were having fun and ‘thought I’d have a go at it. ‘M glad I did. _ ” 

Oh, the absolute shivers that sent. Aziraphale really was for a loss of words. No one had said such simple things that had his mind reeling like it was. Maybe the man was just saying it like it was a practiced script. It came out so easily, but it sounded so genuine. He so wished it was. The man seemed to be kind if that even made sense. They had only spoken a handful of sentences to each other but he found himself falling into his arms easier than he had ever before when going out. He’d allow himself to not think too deeply about it until the next morning. He wanted this quickly-acquired bliss to last to envelop him.

“I am certainly glad you did, too. I was a bit surprised at first, but…”   
  


He trailed off and glanced down at his feet a bit self-consciously but still smiling, nonetheless. 

“ _ -Crowley. That’s my name. _ ” 

_Crowley’s_ one lithe hand moved to under Aziraphale’s chin where there was a soft bit of skin touching his neck and then lifted it so Aziraphale would look at him again. Those amber pools were just so bewitching that Aziraphale felt himself willingly falling into them again. 

_ Crowley _ . What a name. So unique. So _ fitting _ . Aziraphale played the name over and over in his head. It sounded so nice. He could only imagine how it would sound when he said it himself.   
  


“ _ I’d be fine to keep calling you Angel, but I’d love to find out if he has a name.” _

Aziraphale gave a genuine, relaxed smile unlike one he had ever given to someone he had just met, his hand moving to rest lightly on  _ Crowley’s _ wrist that was still holding his chin up to connect their eyes. It felt right.

“Aziraphale.”

  
  


_________________________________________________


	8. Of a Religious Cloth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Crowley-
> 
> “I like it. I like the way it sounds coming from my mouth.”
> 
> Now, Aziraphale hadn’t intended for that to sound the way it had but the look of pleasure crossing Crowley’s face lit up a chill of heat that Aziraphale didn’t mind in the least. 
> 
> “Me too, Angel. Me too.”
> 
> Time to get to know each other --- and formally introduce another character ---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Belated Valentines Day! However you spent it, I hope you had a great Friday and a rested weekend. Here we are with another chapter. We also get to meet another one of the Good Omens crew! They grow on me every time I read about them. I hope you can enjoy this little diddy : ) <3

“ _ Aziraphale.” _

Crowley said as if he were tasting it on the tip of his tongue… It tasted beautiful coming off of it… 

_ “  _ That’s a rather interesting name… nothing like I’ve heard before. Biblical?”

Aziraphale bit his bottom lip with his top teeth and nodded a bit sheepishly. He was impressed that Crowley was able to guess that so easily. Most people he told that to always assumed his parents had just opened up a dictionary and pointed at a random passage to find a name for their new son. Maybe he was religious himself or at least knew something about the bible and its many teachings.

“Quite right, Dear Boy. My family is of a religious cloth, one might say. Church-on-Sunday type.” 

He hoped that didn’t turn him off. After hundreds of years of devotedness, the Church had fallen in deep disfavor in many peoples’ views. He didn’t quite blame people for questioning their faith as he had found himself questioning it from time to time if he was being quite honest with himself. But he found himself finding deep comfort in it even if it was difficult at times, especially in his position. He had faith that the Church would come to support the LGBTQ+ community. They were already making large strides. There was a beat of pause and Aziraphale was ready to accept the disappointment from yet another potential-partner who decided that Aziraphale would be a bit too much for their tastes. 

“Mine too, actually. Crowley isn’t one of the common names. But I thank the Devil every day that I didn’t end up a Michael or  _ Gabriel _ . That would have been embarrassing.”

Aziraphale looked up from his down-trodden self-conscious gaze and blinked a few times. Had he heard that right? He then found himself laughing out loud and breaking their hand contact for just a moment as he bent over, his hands hugging his sides. Crowley rose a brow but smirked at the response. He hadn't laughed like that in a long while.

“Know one or two of those, Angel?” 

Aziraphale managed to stop laughing for just a moment bringing his tear-glazed eyes up to Crowley’s amused ones. 

“You could say that. I know a Gabriel who, although I know is good at heart, doesn’t always get along with me, I’d say. But Crowley… now that is a name I haven’t heard.” 

For a moment, which Aziraphale caught, a look of apprehension passed over Crowley’s face and Aziraphale was quick to quell his worries. 

“I like it. I like the way it sounds coming from my mouth.”

Now, Aziraphale hadn’t intended for that to sound the way it had but the look of pleasure crossing Crowley’s face lit up a chill of heat that Aziraphale didn’t mind in the least. 

“Me too, Angel. Me too.”

They shared a small snicker and Aziraphale felt a wave of confidence with that  _ uplifting _ response. He lightly grasped the fine mesh of the shirt that fell nicely over the lithe chest covered in snaking tattoos across from him and pulled Crowley’s ear down to his mouth so he wouldn't be misunderstood.

“Let me buy you a drink, Crowley. I’d love to actually be able to hear you when we speak.”

Crowley chuckled and bit his bottom lip giving him a side glance with his yellow-amber eyes, Aziraphale giving him a mirroring glance from his place at Crowley’s cheek.

“Would you now? Likewise, I’d love to actually be able to hear you. I’ll need to check in with my friend unless you wouldn’t mind coming with me to them.” 

Aziraphale turned his head and looked for Anathema at the bar. He would need to report to her, as well. They had been dancing and talking for at least 20 or so minutes now. When he looked down the bar towards their spot, he found her. She was talking to that individual from before when he had originally come out in a huff from the loo. They were the one with the fly shirt and wild black hair. 

“I’ll need to check-in as well. My friend, the one from before, is just over there at the end.” 

Aziraphale gestured a finger to Anathema and Crowley glanced over across the mounds of bodies towards the bar at the far end of the dance floor and smirked,

“Perfect. That’s my friend next to them. Two birds, one stone.” 

Before Aziraphale realized what was happening, a hand was ghosting down his side to his wrist and lightly wrapping around it; not too tight, but nice and secure. Crowley didn’t want to lose this one. Aziraphale certainly didn’t mind. He allowed Crowley to move them through the hot and sweaty dancing masses and towards the bar with ease. Aziraphale would admit that he couldn’t help but stare at the snaking hips as they expertly maneuvered back and forth. Aziraphale was never that graceful and dextrous. 

  
  


______________________

  
  


He could already see Anathema’s large grin as they finally made it out of the large crowd. He tried not to roll his eyes. He knew that look. That was the 

_I-told-you-so-and-you-can-bow-down-to-my-greatness-later-yet-again_ look. 

He wouldn’t admit it now, but she had been quite helpful. She glanced down at their connected hands and winked at him turning back to the figure across from her. Now that they were closer, Aziraphale had a better look at them and could see their features better. They dressed androgynously and pulled it off incredibly well. Anyone who tells you fashion isn’t 95% confidence, is  _ dead _ wrong. They were dressed mostly in black like Crowley but had a skinny-tie silver-black hanging loosely around their neck and down a black silky button-up, much like Aziraphale’s redshirt. However, unlike Aziraphale’s monochromatic shirt, this person’s had a pattern with little flies buzzing across it. Aziraphale wasn’t a ‘bug’ person, but for some reason, the pattern really suited the outfit and the person wearing it with confidence. The wild tufts of black hair all around their face certainly pulled it together, he would say, as black beady eyes stared out from the fringe across their forehead.

They wore black skinny jeans hugging their figure and had black combat boots laced up their legs where the jeans were tucked inside. The blacks of their outfit really complimented Crowley’s and it brought a smile to his face imagining Crowley and his friend dressing up together much like he and Anathema had. They looked quite the group.

They looked great, but he wasn’t expecting a- 

“Thank the Devil you found your Latrine-Angel. Now you’ll shut up about it.”

-out of their mouth.

Aziraphale found his jaw-dropping at that, his cheeks reddening and another wave of warmth running through him, even if he was called a “Latrine-Angel”. Crowley groaned and gave them a sound punch to the shoulder.

“Seriously, Bee? You just were beside yourself until you could say that, huh?”

The person shoved the fist off and stuck out their tongue rubbing the shoulder, 

“You love me. I know you do. And you know I am right.”

Aziraphale felt himself still as the beady black eyes turned to him and a hand jutted out.    
  


“Beelzebub. Go by Bee. I’m Crowley’s handler.”

_ Handler? _

Had he misjudged the relationship between Crowley and his  _ handler? _

Crowley seemed to sense the confusion and let out a breath through his nose and brought his free hand up pinching its bridge.

“They are my  _ friend a _ nd the thorn in my side. They aren’t my  _ handler _ .” 

That last sentence was  _ hissed _ at the person who just shrugged as they took initiative and took Aziraphale’s hand shaking it once then twice before letting it go.

There was a beat of silence before Anathema stuck her hand out towards Crowley and smiled with bright eyes at Crowley,

“Anathema. Aziraphale’s handler”

Bee seemed to find that right amusing and howled out loudly as Aziraphale’s cheeks heated. He didn’t  _ glare _ per se, but he hadn’t exactly appreciated that either. 

Crowley took their hand and shook it with a firm grasp and a pleasant smile.

“Pleasure. Crowley.”

  
  


___________________________

  
  



	9. To New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small continuation of the last chapter. Aziraphale and Crowley break away from their friends and begin what will hopefully be something that will be remembered for years to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am using this chapter as a conclusion to Part 1 of my little story. I apologize for the slow-burn, but I hope it is worth it! 
> 
> P.S. I was listening to Coldplay's "Viva La Vida" the whole time while writing (that's probably obvious) and perhaps you will want to, as well!

After the introductions, Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice how Crowley’s long fingers still seemed to be wrapped around his wrist loosely, a thumb idly rubbing back and forth. It sent shivers of sparks through him. Crowley probably didn’t even realize he was doing it. Meanwhile, Anathema was throwing him a few glances as she sucked on a metal straw clinking annoyingly around her glass. Her dark, cut eyebrows were dancing up and down as she batted her eyelashes to and fro. He knew what her eyes were saying. She was quite expressive and after being friends for so long, he could read her like one of his favorite books tucked away from the public eye at his bookshop. ---But, he decided to ignore them. He had had quite enough of her goating input for the night, silent or not.

It seemed as if Crowley was doing the same with Bee as the dark figure just twirled their finger within their ice concoction of some sort of blue liquid. Aziraphale wasn’t going to just stand there and take this. He would hear enough about it later. He lightly tugged on Crowley’s wrist and Crowley’s eyes turned their attention straight back to his ‘Angel’. That would never get old, Aziraphale hoped. Aziraphale lightly bumped his shoulder into Crowley’s and cleared his throat trying to sound relaxed at noncommittal. 

“A drink I believe is what I was trying to tempt you with.” -- Among other things, he failed to mention but he was sure was clear.

“A man of his word.”

He peered at Aziraphale as his blonde-haired counterpart announced out loud to Anathema, Bee, and whoever would care enough to listen,

“Please excuse us. We are a bit thirsty and need something to wet our whistles.”

Aziraphale thought he heard Bee groan in playful annoyance but he was too focused on those eyes that sparkled at him. Crowley seemed to be inwardly chuckling with the way his cheeks seemed to lift.

Oh no… The breath just seemed to be getting hotter and thinner as Aziraphale took in the shared air. Was he smitten, or what? 

He needed to get a hold of himself. He would later, he was sure. 

____________________

  
  


The pair of them pulled away from their companions moving back along the edge of dancing bodies and a bit away from their friends penetrating gazes to where it was a bit quieter over the pounding music of Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida”.

“I used to rule the world

Seas would rise when I gave the word

Now in the morning, I sleep alone

Sweep the streets I used to own”

In the corner where they found a couple of red vinyl-covered bar chairs (by the grace of God), there was an employee with a very nice cowboy hat mixing up drinks giving them a nod.

“I’ll be right with yah, Darlins’. The board has the specials.”

The ‘cowboy’ gestured a free hand to his left and immediately went back to mixing up what looked to be like some Cranberry-Vods, very western, indeed.

Aziraphale moved himself to sit on top of the tall bar chairs with as much grace as he could muster and set his restless hands on the edge of the bar, his manicured nails lightly drumming back and forth. He tried to train his eyes on the small chalkboard that had the specials the mixologist had mentioned. 

Emphasis on he  _ tried _ to train his eyes, but he couldn’t help but feel jitters as Crowley seemed to ignore the chair in lieu of leaning against the bar top with his tall, lithe figure. Those shade-covered eyes moved to stare at the board but Aziraphale swore that Crowley’s mouth was upturned in a smirk as he ‘glanced’ and gave his attention to the  _ incredibly _ interesting drink list. 

“Fantastic Friday’s Frivolous Fruitious Refreshments”

A bit wordy--

He tried his very best to actually do his duty and  _ read _ what it said, but could you blame him for feeling a bit at a loss of ability to give this decisively interesting piece of literature his due attention? 

His attention --staring-- was eventually interrupted by the ‘cowboy’ who finally turned to them. 

“Howdy, babes. What can I get yah?” 

It was at this moment that Aziraphale realized that he really hadn’t been looking at the list and actually making a choice. Crowley seemed to know this and cleared his throat pulling out a 20-pound note. 

“A gin and tonic, no ice, for me and for the Angel, he needs a White Wine Spritzer?”

There was a slight note of inflection at that and he glanced at Aziraphale with a risen brow as if to give him a chance to speak or forever hold his peace at his orders for them, but Aziraphale was more than happy with the choice. He gave a little nod with a charming look of confidence at the bartender. The bartender glanced between the two men and chuckled with a click of his tongue reaching out to snatch the 20-pound note with a wink from Crowley’s middle and index fingers. As suave as ever.

“Coming right up, Darlins’.”

Aziraphale reached for his front trouser pocket to get his wallet when Crowley shook his head with a beam of teeth,

“Allow me. Really. You can get the next one.”

Aziraphale couldn’t help the thrill that ‘the next one’ sent through him. He wondered if Crowley felt the same. 

__________________

"I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing

Roman Calvary choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

My missionaries in a foreign field

For some reason I can't explain"

It seemed like Aziraphale wasn’t the only one feeling a bit nervous about it as Crowley turned from his cool-looking stance and turned his mirror-like glasses towards Aziraphale. His hand reached up and lightly played with the arm of one of the sides and seemingly unconsciously flicked his tongue out towards his lower lip wettening it. 

“But don’t feel pressured to. I am happy to buy you a drink one and the same.”

That was sweet. There was usually an unspoken code between people at the club but Crowley seemed to be able to dance the line very easily between explaining exactly his intentions while being composed and deliberate at the same time. He seemed to want to make Aziraphale comfortable and not seem pressured. That was clear to Aziraphale in many ways.

When they danced, Crowley’s grip was firm, but loose enough for Aziraphale to easily break away if he wished to.

Crowley carefully judged Azirphale’s reactions as he moved his hands while dancing and when they moved towards the bar, Crowley kept a loose but secure grip on Aziraphale’s wrist as to not lose him in the crowd, but to ground himself to the other human-being.

It may have seemed like an over analyzation but Aziraphale couldn’t help but want to pick this experience out piece by piece. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he didn’t exactly skate over the fine details of a piece of art-

Oh, goodness. Did he actually just call this ‘experience’ a piece of art? 

This is how it went. How could he obsess over this for the next month of his life? When things seemed to being going well, he began to over analyze it and drive himself into a frenzy of overcorrection or misinterpretation of what was happening when he should just be having a good time and-

His thoughts were thankfully interrupted by the mixologist setting his spritzer on the moist bartop with a small slosh of pale yellow drink edging the rim as it settled. He took a deep breath and focused his gaze on the glass. 

‘Just have a drink and have fun, Aziraphale. Stop getting so caught up on this. It is just a drink. Smile. Be happy.’ - he thought.

He picked up the cool bulbous glass which rested nicely in his palm and he lightly swirled it like he was at some sort of wine tasting and not a hot and humid club. The coolness and condensation trickling down his palm seemed to relax him and bring him back to Earth. 

When he looked up from his glass, Crowley was staring at him from his spot against the bar. His face was relaxed but intense in its gaze as if he was deep in thought himself as he looked at Aziraphale. Maybe he was lost in his own little world of thoughts, too. Aziraphale bit his bottom lip with slight worry and rose his glass. 

This seemed to break Crowley from his slight stupor and he tightened his grip around his own gin and tonic lifting it from its resting place. 

Aziraphale tilted his head to the side and rose the shiny glass a bit higher and in between them.

“To new beginnings?”

He asked with a slight inflection of uncertainty and insecurity. 

Crowley gave a genuine smile and clinked his glass against Aziraphale’s own.

“And what will come after.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little diddy. Comments and constructive feedback are always welcome and appreciated! : ) Say hello in the comments!!! : ) 
> 
> Tumblr: coveredincrumb


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